The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1887-12-22

Honor did not. The belief helped them to
bear their privations better than they might
otherwise have done, she thought.
And there was Grace Fairiie, the Nation
al School mistress. a gentlewoman who
had been quite alone in the world since
her mothers death; and poor little Annie,
the drunken cobbier's daughter, and the
good-natured old soldier, with the bullet in
his leg, who helped every body. The ladies
were almost afraid they would be obliged
TO send separate invitation to the bullet
it was such an important factor in the old
mans life
Then, there was Mrs. ParBell, who was
''genteel" They were uncertain whether
she would come. for, although she had now
the recommendation of being poor and
lonely, she prided herself upon having
''once moved in different sphere" She
talked of her father having been an agent
for something or somebody, and alluded to
her late husbands ''ayocations" in q way
which, if slightly indefinite, had its effect
in Paradise row. She thought great deal
about keeping up the distinction OF
classes, "and the proper observances of eti-
quette; and she told Aunt Margaret that
she had serious doubts as to whether she
could call upon her and Honor, until she
heard they had piano and taught French.
Nobody refused, and five O'Clock on
Christmas afternoon they had every thing
prepared. 1t was cold, Christmas weather,
50 the curtains were drawn, a bright fire
was burning in every room, chairs and
coucaes, hired for the occasion from the
broker round the corner, were plentiful,
and Hoaor's piano forte at the further end
of the sitting-room opened ready for use.
There was q certain fitness even in the
hired furniture. The small settee for the lit
tie tailor and his vile; the faded, crimson
easy-chaIr-so fitting q throne for gentillty
for Mrs. Parnell; the big. high-shouldered
one. so admirably adapted for the poor
ledger, who, rHmor said, did not like TO be
looked at; the pretty little lounge full OF
dimpies with a stool at its feet, for Johnny
and his mother; the old-fashiOned one with
the cushions for Mamie, and the straight
backed one with the arms for the old SOL
der; they all seemed to have been specially
designed 10 suit the different idiosyncra
cies Of the guests.
HRS Parnell was the first to arrive.
She entered the room with a very grand
air, and in full dress, as it had been in
vogue some thirty years previously, wear
iIg an elaborate tUrban head dress, an
colored satin gown, white gloves
and gold spangled fan, all a little faded,
and worn ana soiled, but showing that Mrs.
Parnell considered that she had come TO an
evening party and understood
what was expected on such occasions.
Honor hurriedly conducted her to the
seat OF honor, explaining that she felt it so
kind of her to come and help them entertain
their guests, who were for the most part
people in humble life.
Mrs Parnell looked rather disagreeably
surprised and drew herself up 4 little
for moment. But she had only
time to say that, though she had not been
accustomed to mix with her interiors, she
had 10 objection 10 do SO for once, and
under the circumstance Of being invited TO
assist in entertaining the good people,
when, after little scufiing i'll the passage,
the door opened, and, assisted by Il friend
IL push from Sally, old Mamie entered the
room.
To figure as one of the guests for whom
she had helped to prepare was just at first
too much for old Nannie's philosophy.
There was certainly great contrast be-
tween Mrs. Parnell in her faded grandeur
and Mamie in her short, scant, well-worn
merino gown, her plain muslin cap, her
sleeves too short to cover her bony wrists,
and her hands bearing witness to life of
toll Her only preparation for company
seemed to have been that of turning down
her cuffs, which were usually turned up,
putting on an old-fashioned collar with q
frili reaching to her thin shoulders, and
pinned on awry, with brooch of Camden
Town emeralds and diamonds purchased
for her by Sally in honor of the occasion.
So far all was going on propitiously; and
no sooner was Mamie indicted into he |
chair by the fire in the back |
room, where she sat with hand planted |
upon each knee and her eyes turned CON-
placently toward the Widespread table, |
Than the little tailor and his wife-neither |
Of them much more than five feet high
were ushered in.
The pretty fair-haired school-mistress in |
deep mourning was welcomed, and after |
her came Johnny and his mother. No one |
seemed to think of calling her any thing |
but "Johnny's mother" With them came |
the ''poor lodger," who had not been easily |
induced to accept the invitation, and who |
was looking very doubtful and reserved,
and on the defensive, SO to speak, as though |
their motive was as yet not quite clear to |
him.
has answered so well with the others, |
seemed to succeed with him also; at any |
rate, so far as disarming his suspicious |
went. In reply, he bowed low, with few |
words about his estimation of the privilege |
Of being allowed to assist Miss Bryson in |
any way. But it was enough to show that |
be was gentleman, had he not, evidently |
weak as he was, and appreciative of the |
l,pir 70
seousIy endeavored to decline in favor of |
others. The threadbare clothes which |
hung so loosely around his tall, gaunt |
frame contrasted piteous!y with his dis
tiuguished bearing. at the same time |
which was that of refined thinker, of any
vice which might have brought him so low
in the social scale as to desire to conceal |
himself in the miserable attic OF one of the |
meauest houses in the street, where the |
most poverty stricken gave him the name |
Of the poor lodger."
The little tailor's aside to his wife: |
''Them was swell clothes once, mother, and
nothing will get the gentleman out OF them |
any more than it will out OF him." showed |
that others thought as he did.
Then came the old soldier, brisk and neat
and upright as a soldier with bullet in
MS leg could be expected TO be; every thing
about him. from his clear, keen grey eyes to |
MS carefully brushed and mended clothes !
and wel.-polished boots, bearing witness
10 life of discipline. By the hand he led |
Annie, the little motherless girl, whose /
father. the drunken cobbler, lived in the |
same house with him. He had done what /
be could for her in the way OF adornment,
brushing the beautiful golden hair aud ty-
ing it up with piece Of string into funny
little knot at the top OF her head, brightly
polishing her poor, shabby boots and pre-